


Origami

by Alexa_Piper



Series: Old tumblr shots [5]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Gen, backdated fic, character death is mentioned as a subplot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27221803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexa_Piper/pseuds/Alexa_Piper
Summary: She started folding paper birds, and now can’t seem to stop.
Series: Old tumblr shots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987381
Kudos: 5





	Origami

It was obvious that it had changed them.

The geek suddenly devoted himself to schoolwork, his customary jokes and sarcastic comments disappearing from class discussions as the boy became more serious. He was taking it hard, yes, but he’d be alright.

The Goth, however, worried Lancer.

She grew more taciturn with each day, and after a couple of weeks, talked to nobody except Tucker. Even then, words were quiet and brief, obviously only meant for the two.

Sam’s schoolwork slowed to a standstill. She barely came to class anymore, and on the days that she did turn up, there was never a completed task for the teacher to grade. Sam still carried her backpack, but it was no longer weighed down by heavy textbooks. Instead, she sat in her customary seat at the back of the room, a painfully empty one between her and Tucker.

There, the girl produced colourful bits of paper from the depths of her bag, spending each period fiddling until the squares turned into tiny three-dimensional shapes. These would disappear back into her bag once complete, and she would reach for yet another square of paper.

The teachers left her alone, reasoning that at least she turned up to class. If ever they tried to talk to the girl, Sam would simply pack up her origami and slip out of the room.

After about a month, she stopped coming altogether.

Casper High’s secretary tried contacting the Mansons, but could not get hold of them. After a week, Mr Lancer decided to take matters into his own hands.

He stood on the Mansons’ doorstep at the start of lunch break as though he had every right to be there, and an elderly woman led the teacher into the depths of the building with a sad smile.

They stopped before a black door. “Just be careful where you step,” Sam’s grandmother advised. “She was furious when Jeremy accidentally crushed some of those birds.”

Lancer nodded, swallowing before knocking gently on the door and pushing it open slowly. “Miss Manson?”

There was barely space to step between the piles of paper cranes.

Sam looked up at the intruder, fingers continuing to fold rapidly despite the lack of visual input. “What are you doing here?” she demanded in a voice that rasped from lack of use.

The teacher navigated his way towards her on tiptoe, sitting next to the girl on her little patch of clear carpet. “They’re very pretty.” He motioned towards the paper birds, then down at her hands.

Sam shrugged, tugging on the wings of her latest one until they were spread wide, its body forming a small dome. “They’re supposed to be,” she answered curtly, reaching for another piece of origami paper.

The cranes _were_ beautiful; after all, Sam used the finest paper. It was the perfect thickness, dark backgrounds of blue and black emblazoned with oriental patters of blossoms and clouds in gold and silver foil.

There must have been thousands of the birds.

Lancer reached towards the pile of squares. “May I?” he asked quietly. At the girl’s nod, he picked up a piece, running his fingers over it with a small smile. Yes, this paper was of the highest quality.

Scrunching his brow in concentration, the teacher pulled diagonal corners to meet, forming a triangle from the square. A handful of quick folds later, he made a pleased sound, pulling the wings of his crane until it ‘popped’ into its three-dimensional position.

Sam watched him intently, her fingers continuing to fold as though they had a will of their own. “I didn’t know that you could make paper cranes.”

The teacher shrugged. “I once wanted something badly,” he admitted. “They say that if you make a thousand cranes, you’ll be granted a wish.”

“Did you get it?”

He sighed. “No, I didn’t. She… it didn’t matter. I couldn’t finish the thousand in time.”

The Goth looked back to her hands, bangs falling forwards to hide her face. “I just want him back,” she admitted in a small voice. “This one here is crane number three thousand and fifty-eight. Maybe if I make ten thousand I’ll have shown so much dedication that whatever greater power there is will bring him back to me.”

A tear dripped off the tip of her nose, making a damp spot on the bird’s wing. “I don’t care if he’ll be a full ghost, I just want Danny to come home. I can’t stand walking into the graveyard and seeing nothing but a headstone when I want to see his smile!”

Mr Lancer chewed his lip thoughtfully, reaching for another square of paper. “You know, those deities still choose what types of wishes to grant. The cancer took my mother before I could finish the thousand, but I kept folding. I changed my wish – I wanted to be able to care for my little brothers and keep us all together so we wouldn’t be split up into different Foster homes, since Dad had run off several years before. I was the oldest of five at twelve years old, but I finished those cranes before the funeral.

“My new wish was granted, and we were able to all stay together. I wanted so desperately to see my mum again, but I realised that something was more important.”

Sam’s fingers had stilled. “But what about Danny?” she whispered. “What’ll I do without him?”

Lancer placed his second bird onto the pile in front of him. “Live,” he advised, reaching out to touch a finger over her heart. “Danny’s still with us, in _here_ , so long as we cherish his memory. Are you really going to do him the disservice of throwing your life away?”

Getting to his feet, the teacher left the girl alone.

Ida met him in the hallway, raising an eyebrow. “Oldest of five at twelve?” she asked in a quiet voice once he had shut Sam’s door.

Lancer smirked. “There were three of us, and I was fifteen.”

The old woman nodded, her mouth splitting into a grin. “Yeah, the other version sounds better.”

The man left the house without further conversation, managing to return to Casper High before the lunch period ended.

The next morning, Samantha Manson trudged into the classroom, and Lancer couldn’t help but smile when she produced their prescribed text from the depths of her backpack.


End file.
